Chapter 06: A Pig Roast (F-solo)

Sonja lost herself classes, homework, being on the varsity cheerleader squad, and more than a few social events. Betty and her friends knew how to party and rich parents made sure that the affairs were grandiose and expansive. There was enough booze and teenagers making out that Sonja didn't need the mandatory Sex Ed classes.

Betty made sure that Sonja and Rick stayed together. It wasn't too bad, Rick was handsome and muscular, but he didn't quite have anything in his head to attract Sonja. It was obvious nothing was going to happen between the two of them; it was a lukewarm at best between them. Not to mention, Rick paid more attention to Betty than Sonja when the two were around.

It was an early October Saturday morning when life took a brief pause. There were no events to go to, all her homework was done, and Betty was out of town with her parents.

Slightly edgy from a good cheerleader workout session, which ended at ten in the morning and left her with a general feeling of laziness. So, instead of going inside the house, she stopped at the front porch and found a comfortable spot and sat down, still wearing her outfit. The cream and maroon colors didn't match her skin, but it was obvious she was just as popular as Betty and her friends. The skirt was very short and she flashed most of the school whenever she did a jump.

The hours passed as she read a popular book, glad that it wasn't one of the school texts. She kept her feet up on the railing of the porch and her ass comfortable in one of the outdoor chairs. In the driveway was her car, a BMW like her mother's, but this one was in a sage color instead of the silver of her mother's. It was also about half the price, but it didn't have every single little feature. A faint smile ghosted her lips as she looked at it, remembering how she bought it. The smile faded slightly as she remembered where the money came from, in an envelope on the front table. The note in her mother's handwriting told her to buy it.

Sonja wasn't upset about the car, only that she didn't even hear her mother come in before she ran off for another trip.

She almost missed her mother. She had not returned for more than three days once since they moved from Illinois. Sonja's lips twisted into a frown as she remembered hearing her mother going, or smelling her perfume, but more often than not, the bitch who birthed her wasn't even there.

Her eyes peered over at the green car and a little bit of the anger faded away. She didn't need to take the bus anymore, that horrid yellow bus. And the leering eyes of that man. Suppressing a shiver, she smiled back at her car.

No more bus.

Happier, she flipped the page and went back to reading, sighing with sudden pleasure as a cool wind brushed across her, teasing the bottom of her legs with an elemental curiosity. Enjoying herself, she flipped another page.

The crunch of someone walking down the gravel drive drew her attention from the book. Peeking up, she saw an older man, easily in his forties. Wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and shorts, he was sweating from the effort of just walking down the drive. She frowned for a moment, trying to remember who he was before he spoke up.

“Uh... hi. I'm Jim, from two houses down.”

She watched as his eyes trailed down, to look underneath her legs. It was obvious he was starting at her skirt and slightly parted legs, but she made no effort to cover herself.

Sonja smiled. “Good morning.”

He wiped his hands on his shorts, “I... uh... was wondering if you would be willing to help us. We are trying to roast a pig for a lunch this afternoon and I'm having a little trouble doing it by myself.”

For a moment, she resisted. Then, a cold snap of a wind slammed into her, almost throwing her off the chair. She slapped her feet down on the ground for balance and stood up. Behind her neighbor, a small cloud of moths suddenly burst out of the grass and scattered. She froze, watching the fluttering wings for a moment, shivering from the window.

“Are... are you okay?”

She shook her head, “Yeah, cold wind surprised me.”

He obviously didn't know what she was talking about. Ignoring it, she padded down the stairs, leaving her books on the porch. He smiled at her hesitantly, his hands tight on the side of his pants.

She just nodded before speaking. “Sure, sounds like fun.”

Sonja's words were hollow, but she was curious. He started to hold out his hand, but then thought about it. Spinning around, he cut across her yard, toward his own house. She followed, listening to the sounds of tacky flip-flops in the grass. His house was a good distance away, hidden by two lines of ancient trees. Once they followed the tiny foot trail, she saw another immense backyard. This one had a large pit in the center, where a bonfire was burning brightly. Huge waves of shimmering heat poured from the flames. About ten feet from the fire was a pile of wood that easily doubled her height. Surprised by amount of wood, she glanced at him and he smiled apologetically.

“Takes about eight hours to cook both pigs and that takes a lot of wood.”

“Where did it come from?”

He waves toward the front of the house, “Had to cut down a tree, seemed like a waste of wood, we---I decided that a good cookout would be perfect.”

She ignored the “we” and “I” bits tactfully.

“So, what do you need my help for?”

“Oh, the pigs. It is really hard to spit them by yourself.”

Sonja followed as he took her next to the house, where two large crates were broken into. Inside was a pig, a real one. Ice was packed around each one. Kneeling down, she brushed her hand against it, feeling the smooth skin. It was firm and slightly flexible, not unlike human flesh.

That association startled her and she looked up, confusion in her expression.

“I get them without the hair, too much effort to clean it off. These are all cleaned out, they just need to be stuffed and spitted.”

For a brief moment, she wondered if the cheerleader outfit was going to be a hindrance, but her neighbor needed help. He looked down at her, where she was kneeling. His eyes flashed down to her breasts, before he cleared his throat.

“I... we need to get it out of the box and put it on that table.”

There was a table with a blue tarp on it. At one end was a rather impressive set of bowls, most of them filled stuffing, onions, and garlic cloves. To her sinking realization, she actually could identify most of the contents with little effort. Brushing the pig once again, she stood up and prepared to grab one end. He grabbed the other and they grunted as they picked it up. It was heavy, a thick dead weight, in her hands. With some effort, she managed to pick up her end and step toward the table. On the other end, he was straining until his face turned red.

Dropping it on the table, it landed with a dull thud. Gasping from the effort, she found an intense curiosity flaring up inside her.

“We stuff it now?”

He said, “Uh... yeah. And cut slits in the skin for the seasoning.”

Sonja glanced back at the other crate. “Should we get the other one?”

He shook his head, “Table can't handle the weight.”

“Okay, then I'll stuff.”

Without waiting for his response, she padded over to the largest bowl of stuffing and carried it over to the gaping hole at the end of the pig. It looked disturbingly like an orifice, but she started to shove large handfuls of the stuffing deep inside the slightly moist opening. It was not unlike stuffing a turkey, which she did in Home Ec., but there was a subtle difference. Her arm, bare from the outfit, easily pushed into the hole again and again, shoving juicy handfuls of stuffing into it with each plunge.

At one point, she paused, her arm completely buried into the pig's body. Her fingers pushed in more and she caught him looking at her, a frustrated hunger in his eyes. As their eyes met, he jumped nervously and looked away quickly. A strange feeling of embarrassment filled her, so she kept on stuffing the pig.

“So, do you do this often?”

He nodded, “About once a year. Normally we buy the wood though.”

“How many people show up?”

“Seventy to eighty people.”

“Seems like a lot of pig, if you make both.”

“Well, they really cook down, after a couple of hours.”

“Oh.”

Her entire arm was dripping with stuffing and melting ice. Grinning at him, she shook it off and found a thick needle and some twine. Raising an eyebrow, she pointed at it and he nodded.